The Ballad of Transport 18 Various Artists

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[Verse 1]
We were thirty-eight crewmen on Transport 18
The hour was late and the talk was obscene
When the raiders streaked down and their bright lasers cut
Some twenty-odd holes through her steel-plated gut

[Chorus]
So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

[Verse 2]
All the engines were dead and the life systems shot
And the ship leaking air like the steam off a pot
When the crew was accounted and all damage told
The last airtight chamber was the fifth cargo hold

[Chorus]
So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

[Verse 3]
So we yelled SOS with our beacons and flares
And we ran for the hold by the last standing stairs
We sealed off the ports and we gave a great cheer
When we found that the cargo was twelve tons of beer